


Stab wounds

by itsthebat



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: F/M, also stephanies mom is going to kill her, and lets be honest jason has a crush on her too, and stephanie freaks out, i wrote this ages ago so excuse me for basically everything, jason and stephanie are such an underrated couple, jason is hurt, stephanie has a bit of a crush on jason, thats it thats the plot, they deserve some love, tim makes a cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthebat/pseuds/itsthebat
Summary: Jason is hurt, and Stephanie freaks out.





	Stab wounds

Jason Todd was bleeding on the carpet.

     It wasn’t as if Stephanie hadn’t seen him bleeding before—since they’d been a team, they’d pulled some pretty dangerous jobs, so it wasn’t strange that one of them would end up with a cut or a bleeding nose or, in the worst cases, a shot in the leg, but never something truly scary. They’d both already _died_ , so what could happen to them now? Also, they were a good team, they got each other’s backs.

      Except for that night. Jason wanted to go and chase a gang that had been selling really deathly drugs to kids, but Stephanie wasn’t in her best; she’d told Jason that she’d caught the flu, but the truth was that she was on her period. Why didn’t she told him that, she had no idea… _well_. Maybe she did—he always treated her as if she was a rookie, trying to take bullets for her and all that shit, and if she told him that she couldn’t go chase some bad guys because she was on her period, he might laugh at her? See her as weak? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d laugh at that, but she didn’t know him that well yet, and she didn’t want to risk it.

     Karma was a bitch, though. She discovered the box of tampons empty, and she’d had to go to the store, a hundred streets away, to buy another one, since her mom was working. Stephanie feared the whole trip that she was going to vomit right there on the street with lots of people staring at her, and she had to walk with her back bent because that made the pain a little more bearable. But only a little.

     And not only did she have cramps, but she had three pimples on her face now—at least, they’d been three the last time she looked. She wouldn’t be surprised if now she had seven.

     Stephanie was thinking about the hot chocolate her mom made before going to work waiting for her, all the blankets she would wrap around herself and the cheesy movie she was going to watch when she opened the door and saw Jason bleeding on the carpet.

     “Hey,” he mumbled.

     Automatically, she hid the box of tampons behind her back—why, _why_ hadn’t she asked for a paper bag—and her mouth hanged open. Jason was just lying on the floor, his head propped on the wall, and if it weren't for the blood caking his clothes, his purple eye and swollen lip and, not to forget, the _motherfreaking knife_ in his abdomen, he would have looked like lying on the floor was something he did every day. His red helmet was a few feet away from him, and the window was open, a chilling breeze coming through it. Stephanie didn’t know how long he had been in her house, but he sure as hell was going to catch a cold.

     “What took you so long?” His voice was hoarse, and the grin he was pulling right now made him look creepier than usually.

     Instead of going to help him like any normal person would have, Stephanie just stood there, a little bit shocked, trying to hide a freaking box of tampons behind her back and think of something to do. Okay. Jason was on her house, and the carpet was covered in blood. _His_ blood. Oh my god, how in hell was she supposed to explain this to her _mom_?

     “I thought you were going to stay at home, having the flu and all of that.”

     She opened her mouth to say something—what, she hadn’t a clue—when a cramp attacked her in full force. Stephanie closed her eyes and tried to keep it cool, tried not to bend and scream like a madwoman, and she thought she was about to die when the cramp disappeared.

     “I’m the one that has been stabbed and you look worse than me.”

     When Stephanie opened her eyes she noticed for the first time that he was really pale, and even though she knew—hoped—all the blood he was covered in wasn’t his, she was sure a fairly amount of it was. “ _Fuck_ ,” she muttered under her breath, and Jason, this man who happened to be staining everything with blood, _laughed_.

     “Yeah, that’s more like it.” Stephanie saw blood dripping from his mouth before he wiped it away with the sleeve of his jacket, and it was more than enough to make her react.

     Running to the kitchen, she left the box of tampons in a cupboard and proceeded to rush back to the living room, where she found Jason with his eyes closed. “Hey,” she screamed, and slapped him.

     “I’m awake,” he mumbled, sleepily. Stephanie closed the window and then crouched by his side. “Hey, Blondie, where were you?”

     “You shithead,” she said, trying to think of all the times Tim had told her what to do in cases like this and she’d been distracted by something weird in the cave. Should she pull out the knife? Maybe she should just call Babs or Cass or one of the batboys. Hell, maybe she should call her mom. “Why did you come here? I don’t know what to do,” she said, trying her best not to panic.

     Jason moaned. “I like you the best.”

     “ _Jason_.”

     “Just—pull it out.” She stared at him, and he actually _grinned_. “I’m a big guy. I’ll survive.”

     “Are you sure?” He nodded. “Okay, at the count of three. One. Two—” Not waiting to three, she bit her lower lip and pulled the knife out. Jason howled.

     “Sweet fucking mother of Jesus, _Stephanie_ ,” he screamed, opening his eyes really big, clutching his abdomen where the knife had been thrust. “What about that three?”

     “What now?” she asked, and she swore to god she was going to give him hell for going to chase the gang without her. But for now, Stephanie picked carefully his hands and pulled them aside to see the injury. “You’re not bleeding anymore.”

     “Told ya, big guy.”

     She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got alcohol. Should I—I don’t know—put some in the injury to keep it from infecting? Wrap it with bandages?”

     “Yeah, and if you could keep some alcohol for me, I would be most grateful.”

     _Oh my god._ She was supposed to be drinking hot chocolate and watching Julia Roberts and Richard Gere flirt, not taking care of Jason. And he was supposed to, _well_ , do whatever he did when he wasn’t chasing bad guys. Or chase criminals less dangerous than the gang he’d gone after. _And_ holy shit, her mom was going to make her pay for the bloody carpet.

     “Come on.” Putting one of his arms around her neck, Stephanie helped him get up. Jason cursed under his breath. “I’m going to clean you.”

     He chuckled. “ _Okay_.”

     She wasn’t sure, but she thought her mom still kept old shirts from her father, and one of those should fit Jason perfectly. So to the bathroom they went, and Stephanie left Jason sat on the toilet while she fetched some alcohol and towels and bandages and a shirt. She had to stop in her mom’s room and sit in the bed because of how badly she was hurting, and it took all of her not to shed actual _tears_. This all had to be a joke. A big, cruel joke. Because if she didn’t lie now she was going to die in mere seconds.

     When she came back to the bathroom, Jason had his head propped on the wall, eyes closed, and even though his ragged, bloody clothes and his purple eye and his swollen lip, Stephanie couldn’t help but think of how _peaceful_ he looked. She always saw him moving, always alert, and seeing him so still made her feel happy. What was more, seeing him so calm in her house made her feel content, because that meant that he felt safe with her.

     That, or he was dead.

     “Do you really have the flu?” he asked, his voice low.

     Stephanie shook her head, but when she remembered that he had his eyes closed, she muttered a “no” with her voice equally low. She didn’t know, but it scared her a little, confessing it. She’d heard it from Bruce, Dick and Alfred, Jason was jumpy and had a temper and got angry easily—lying to him hadn’t been the best option, but it wasn’t as if they were more than partners, friends at much. And not even friends had to tell everything to each other.

     She guessed she didn’t want to disappoint him. Maybe. _She didn’t know_.

     “You’re in pain,” he said quietly, and Stephanie was surprised by his uncanny ability to tell how people were feeling just by being in the same room with them. She stared at him, and was fazed by how this man, who looked so deadly, could be really soft when he wanted.

     “I’ve been worse,” she simply answered, fidgeting with the bottle of alcohol.

     “Heh. Me too.”

      She didn’t know how to say this without it sounding bad, so she said it as fast as she could. “I’ve got to take off your jacket. And your shirt.”

     His chest convulsed with laughter, and Stephanie smiled. “You know, I don’t usually do this on the first date.”

     She rolled her eyes. “If only this was a date.”

     “The best one you’ve ever had, Brown.” He breathed, paused for a moment and said, “Gimme one second.”

      Jason was not one to show signs of weakness, so Stephanie turned around and faced the mirror to wait. She was in pain herself, so whatever. She could wait forever. But when she looked at her face in the mirror— “Oh my god,” she muttered, touching her cheek.

     “What?” asked Jason, and Stephanie turned around as quickly as she could, saw him with his eyes opened, body ready to fight.

     “Nothing.” She gulped—she had not only three, but _five_ pimples. _Come on_. This had to be a nightmare for sure.

      Jason relaxed visibly. “Are we going to get naked or not?”

      “Definitely _not_ ,” Stephanie laughed. She went to him and first helped him get off his jacket, which she threw into the tub—she would have to throw it somewhere else, because if all the laundry turned red, her mom was definitely going to murder her. “You okay?” she asked, because he was breathing heavily.

     “Yeah,” he said, though Stephanie knew he was _not_.

     “Listen, if you need to wait or something—”

     “I said I’m fine, Stephanie.”

     _No need to get angry at me_ , she thought but didn’t say. He’d been stabbed, she would cut him some slack.

     Grabbing the hem of the shirt, Stephanie carefully lifted it while Jason grunted, and even though she was trying her best not to hurt him, she was. When the shirt was off, Jason had already his eyes closed and his head against the wall, and Stephanie turned around really fast because the sight of his scars shocked her more than she’d thought it would. She knew it shouldn’t, because she _knew_ Jason had autopsy scars. Tim had told her. But it… it was shocking, and she couldn’t help her reaction.

     “I’m sorry,” Jason rasped, and Stephanie turned to him again.

     “Why?”

     “These are kinda scary,” he said, pointing to his torso.

     “Don’t be an idiot.” No, don’t be, because she’d already been one idiot big enough for both of them. Of course Jason was insecure about his scars. Goddammit. What was she supposed to say now that she’d screwed up? _Hey, they are scary, but only at first. Don’t sweat it._ Clutching her stomach, because cramps were attacking again, Stephanie forced herself to concentrate on the bottle of alcohol.

     And it was such a good plan, but her stupid period had to say something, and it chose this exact moment to make her dizzy.

     Jason caught the bottle of alcohol mid-air as it fell from Stephanie’s hands, and his hands flew to her hips to try to steady her. She got nauseous, and Stephanie was doing all she could to stop the tears forming in her eyes from falling.

     “Sit down,” Jason said, helping her sit on the floor without collapsing.

      This always happened to her at some point when she was on her period, but for fuck’s sake, why did it have to happen _now_? Stephanie closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on something. The dizziness only lasted a few minutes normally, then she would be okay.

      “Stephanie,” Jason said, and he said it with this soldier voice, like if he was ordering her her own name. “What’s wrong?”

     “Nothing,” she blurted out. Because if he could say he was fine without her questioning it, she could do it too.

     “ _Stephanie_.”

     “It’s nothing, I swear,” she said, opening her eyes, because she wasn’t dizzy anymore, thank goodness.

     “You could have a concussion.”

     Were they seriously having this conversation?

     “I know what it is, and it’s not a concussion.”

     “Then why don’t you tell me?”

     “I don’t wanna.”

     “This is not a game, Brown,” he rasped, and she was getting angry. “Did you hit your head or something yesterday while we were fighting those guys? Because if you did, then I should know—”

     “You fucking went solo to fight a gang you knew you couldn’t take on your own without telling me and you ended up stabbed, so don’t tell me this crap about knowing what I do or don’t.”

     Stephanie could practically hear him screaming inside his head, but she was too angry to say anything else, and so was he, because he leaned against the wall again and closed his big mouth. This was unbelievable! Since when had he become her fucking _father_? She was seriously thinking about letting him bleed out on her bathroom when she noticed that the injury was actually _bleeding_. “Jason.” The effort he made when he caught the bottle—and her—must have made it bleed again.

     “Jason,” she repeated, getting to her feet. She was going to talk to Tim and ask him to explain all this what-to-do-in-ugly-situations thing all over again, because she didn’t want anyone else dying on her. Because Jason was totally dying on her.

     He had his eyes closed, and looked even paler than before. Stephanie slapped him again, but this time he only moaned. “Jason, goddammit.” This at least she knew what it was: Jason was in shock. His face was sweaty and pale and oh my god, this was too much, she should have called her mom.

     “Jason,” she repeated, though it was futile. She felt tears collapse in her eyes, and when one rolled down her cheek, the others followed. Panicking, Stephanie, as carefully as possible, put Jason down on the floor—she caught his jacket and, making it a ball, put it under his head. Picking one towel, she pressed it against his bleeding abdomen and waited.

     “Fuck,” she muttered, biting her lips. She checked the pockets of Jason’s pants, and when she felt something in one of them and discovered it was a mobile phone, she almost choked on her own tears. Dialing Tim’s number, Stephanie waited until he picked it up.

     “Jay?” he asked, confused.

     “Tim, it’s me,” she muttered, trying to sound okay.

     “Steph?” he asked, more confused now.

     “Listen, Jason got stabbed and he’s bleeding and I don’t know what to do and—”

     “Wow, wow, wow, wait a second, stabbed?”

     “I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed, much to her dismay. “He’s unconscious and— _Tim_.”

     “Did you put some pressure on the injury?”

     “Yes, I have a towel against it.”

     “Is it _still_ bleeding?”

     “I don’t know, I—wait.” She got the towel off him, and she realized that it was barely bleeding now. “No, it’s not bleeding.”

     “Good,” Tim muttered, sounding relieved. “Now, I guess you have alcohol? Put it in the injury, and then cover the injury with a pad and wrap it in bandages, okay? Are you all right?”

     “Yes,” she said, sniffing.

     “If he doesn’t wake up in an hour call me, okay? I’ve got to— _umf_.”

     “Tim?”

     “Gotta go, call me if anything goes—”

     The call ended, and Stephanie proceeded to do everything Tim had told her with shaky hands. He was a jerk, but Stephanie didn’t want Jason _dead_.

     Putting the towel aside, Stephanie first washed her hands with the alcohol, and then threw all of it on Jason’s injury. If he was awake, she was sure that he would have fainted from the pain, because it _must_ have been painful. Then, she dried the alcohol on his skin with a towel and covered it with a pad she’d picked up before. The skin around the stab wound was still sticky with blood, so Stephanie tried her best to clean it with a wet towel.

     She was afraid of hurting him, even though he was already unconscious, so it was a slow job. She stared at his scars—some because of the autopsy, some because of his job as Robin, as Red Hood—and she felt bad for having turned around when she saw them. Stephanie imagined having to look at them every time she passed in front of a mirror, or when she changed her clothes, and actually cringed. She saw Jason as a tough guy, as a bad guy, but she couldn’t even imagine all this man—boy still, not even twenty—had been through, and she saw a different person when she looked at him again.

     Stephanie eyed the white streak of his hair, and she wondered if he liked it or not—he could have dyed it if he didn’t like it, but there it was, the same white streak he’d had since he came back from the dead. He’d already died, he couldn’t die all over again.  

     So she kept cleaning his torso, careful not to linger too much on a particular scar she couldn’t even fathom how he got, and she didn’t know how much time passed. She was still hurting, but she wasn’t dizzy and that was something.

     At some point, Jason grabbed her wrist.

     Stephanie yelped, but she didn’t have time to say anything before Jason muttered, “Tengo frío.”

     “What?” Stephanie didn’t talk Spanish, and she was pretty sure that that was Spanish. He was looking at her with those bright blue eyes of his, and she felt her heart thump faster than usual, which was totally a _bad_ _sign_.

     Wiping her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie and sniffing some more, she smirked really big and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You jerk,” she said.

     “Stephanie,” he rasped, clutching her wrist. “Hey. _Hey_. Why are you crying?”

     She wiped her eyes. “I’m not.” Fuck, she _was_. “Listen, if you ever do that again, I’m going to kill you myself.”

     Jason chuckled. “Why am I on the floor?”

     “You started bleeding again, and you wouldn’t wake up. I had to call Tim.”

     He was smiling. The jerk was smiling as brightly as if he’d seen heaven or something while Stephanie had been crying her eyes out just some minutes ago. “Oh,” he closed his eyes again and smiled to himself. “If this is what it takes to bring you this close to me, I would’ve got stabbed weeks ago.”

     She laughed. “Shut up, I’ve got to wrap bandages around you.”

     “I’m cold,” he answered. “I love being half naked around you and all, but. You know. _Winter_.”

     “First bandages, then clothes. Come on.” Snickering, Stephanie helped him sit up and started wrapping the bandages around his abdomen. She bit her lip all the while, and she wanted to say something about his scars but didn’t want to anger him. Or sadden him, whatever came first. So Stephanie just kept wrapping and wrapping until she couldn’t take it anymore and blurted out, “Your scars aren’t scary.”

     Jason, who had had his eyes closed, opened them questionably. He didn’t say anything, just waited for Stephanie to say something—and she wasn’t even sure of what to say. “It’s just… they are shocking. But _not_ scary.” This was going to end up with one of them crying, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be Stephanie. “I mean—” She put the bandages aside and touched one of the autopsy scars. “They tell your story, and… um. I’m so bad at this.”

     She rested her head against his shoulder, trying not to hurt him more. He sighed, “Then my story is the most fucked up story, like, _ever_.”

     “At least you met me,” she tried to tease, but it just didn’t work. She fidgeted with her own fingers and whispered, “Do they hurt?”

     She felt his chest breathing heavily. “Some days,” he whispered even lower. “But not as much as when I came back.”

     Stephanie let the hand touching awkwardly his chest fall to the floor and said, “Sorry.”

     “Tonight is being more emotional than I thought it would be.” Stephanie chuckled and felt his body reverberating with a laugh, too. She supposed they were better at that, hiding feelings at all costs, joking about it all, instead of opening up.

     “I’m going to get you a shirt.”

     “You could give me yours,” Jason purred.

     Stephanie picked up the shirt from the basin and helped him put it on. It was a shirt that had imprinted on it, with purple letters, “GOTHAM RULES” and Stephanie couldn’t help but laugh at it while Jason scowled. They walked together to her room—Stephanie thought about giving him the couch just because he’d scared her to death, but put the thought away when cramps came back. She was pretty sure Jason had noticed, and it made her feel bad, even if she didn’t know _why_.

     “There you go,” she said, helping him sit in the bed—she sat just after him and clutched her stomach without pretending that she was okay, because she was just too tired and her body hurt too much.

     “Hey, Blondie?” Jason said. When Stephanie looked at him, his face was already glued to the pillow—she had never seen him sleep, had thought that he slept with an eye open or something. “I know what’s wrong with you.”

     “Jason—”

     “You’re on your period,” he said, and Stephanie was sure that she was blushing now. Goddammit, why was she blushing? He’d only said a _fact_. And it wasn’t like periods were a thing to be embarrassed for.

     But she blurted out, “No I’m not.”

     He chuckled, then winced. “Come on, I’m a detective. The pimples. The cramps. The dizziness.”

     Stephanie didn’t know what she hated more, the fact that he’d guessed that she was on her period, or the fact that he’d noticed her pimples—they were noticeable but, come on, you aren’t supposed _to point that out_.

     Getting up from the bed, Stephanie left Jason in her room and went to pick up more blankets, because it was a cold night and she planned on sleeping in her bed, no matter that Jason was sleeping there too. They were friends, partners. Only that. So whatever.

     She grimaced when she saw the bloody carpet of the living room and tried to come up with an explanation to give to her mom, but her brain didn’t want to work. She couldn’t tell her that her partner had come with a stab wound and that he’d almost died because Stephanie didn’t know what to do in those situations. She’d tell her that she’d found a hurt stray dog, brought it home, but it’d died.

     Stephanie needed to _sleep_.

     When she came back to the room, Jason was already asleep. Stephanie sighed and covered him with some blankets before lying down on the bed herself and putting a warm duvet over her. They both were lying on their sides, so he was facing her, and Stephanie noticed that his nose was red, and she strangely had the urge to touch it. She chuckled to herself. This had been the weirdest night of her life, and even though she felt silly and like an idiot right now, she was still happy.

      She closed her eyes.

     “Why didn’t you tell me you were on your period?” Jason’s voice was sleepy, and his breath smelled of cigarettes. “I know you’re still awake, dumbass, don’t pretend you’re not.”

     “I’m tired,” she muttered, though she was not.

     “Stephanie—”

     “Every time you say my name, I know you’re going to say something bad.”

     He smiled. “If you think I’m the type of jackass who laughs at that kind of things, you are very wrong.” She heard him moving, and the next thing Stephanie knew was that he had wrapped one of his hands around hers. “Look at me.”

     Reluctantly, Stephanie opened her eyes. Jason wasn’t grinning anymore. “You could’ve told me.”

     “I know,” she lied.

     “No you don’t,” he answered. She’d never seen him this serious. “I can be a dick, but I would’ve understood. _I understand_.”

     “Stop insulting yourself.”

     “You’ve been in pain the whole night, and you still have taken care of me.”

     “Jason, it’s okay.”

     “No, shut up, I’m having a moment.” Stephanie giggled, and his lips turned upwards. “I appreciate it. Thanks. There, that’s it. Was that so bad?”

     “You’re an idiot,” she said, and just because it was dark and Jason was holding her hand, she added, “You’re always so overprotective when we are out. If I told you I couldn’t go out because I’m on my period, then you would have thought I was weaker still. Maybe. I don’t know.”

     He didn’t say anything, and Stephanie wondered if he was asleep now. Great, one time she opened up to someone, and said someone was asleep. Just her luck.

     “I’m sorry I…” he started, but lost his voice. Stephanie didn’t even breathe, worried that if she made any sound he would never say what he was sorry for. “Sorry I made you think that.”

     This was seriously too emotional for both of them.

     One of his foot touched hers, and Stephanie yelped. “Your foot is like fucking _ice_!”

     Jason laughed. “Only my foot?”

     His other hand snaked its way to her waist, and when it touched her stomach, Stephanie shouted. “Jason!” His legs were tangled with hers, and she could have sworn to god that she had never met a person this _cold_. She was laughing like crazy, and when Jason stopped moving and muttered, “Ouch, ouch, you didn’t put poison in those bandages, did you?” She couldn’t stop the giggles.

     They fell asleep eventually, and even though Stephanie had thought of an excuse for the blood in the carpet—sort of—she hadn’t thought of an excuse for when her mom arrived that morning and found her daughter sleeping with a _guy_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!!


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